Be Careful What You Wish For (The Swann Sisters Chronicles Book 2)

by Evangeline Anderson

  “Are you feeling well, Miss Swann?” he asked softly, looking at her anxiously.

  Cass nodded though her head was still spinning a little. “I…yes. I think so.”

  “Then I’ll leave you.” He looked like he was about to disappear but Cass put out a hand to stop him.

  “Wait.” She took a deep breath. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be weird and ungrateful I just—”

  “It is I who should apologize,” he said gravely. “I should have found a different way to heal you. A less…intimate way. Forgive me for taking what you were not willing to give.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that I…I…” Cass didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

  Jake shook his head and stepped away from her. “I will be in touch about your new case. Until then, please remember you can always call me if you need me.”

  Before Cass could open her mouth again, he disappeared in a roiling cloud of navy blue smoke and was gone.

  Eighteen

  “Cass, wake up. Wake up!”

  “Huh?” Cass opened one eye groggily to see Rory staring at her with an anxious look on her face. “Wha’s wrong?” she mumbled.

  “Nothing unless you think it’s all right for your boyfriend’s clone to be wandering around the house wearing nothing but a pair of Vulcan ears and some panties on his head.”

  “What?” Cass was suddenly wide awake. She looked around trying to remember how she happened to be sleeping in the middle of the day. Or was it the night? Her internal clock seemed to be all messed up—probably because of the massive sleep debt she’d accrued from staying up until all hours the night before. “What are you talking about? What’s happening?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Rory sounded exasperated. “You never came home from school. I kept waiting and waiting—I was really worried. Until I came up here and found you snoring and drooling like a drunken sailor.”

  “I don’t snore,” Cass snapped. “And I certainly don’t drool.”

  Rory raised an eyebrow. “What’s that on your chin, then? And what happened to you today anyway? How did you get into the house without Nana or I seeing you?”

  Cass felt a surge of embarrassment as she wiped at her chin.

  “Uh, I had some trouble at the Tight Ass Academy today and Jake—I mean, Counselor O’Shea—had to come in and fix it. When he was, uh, finished, he brought me back here.”

  Rory frowned. “So now he’s ‘Jake’ Whatever happened to ‘big dumb jerk’ or your other delightful nicknames for him?”

  “Jake is his second name—his nickname, I mean,” she corrected herself hastily. “And…he helped me out of a pretty tight spot today.”

  “What kind of tight spot?” Rory wanted to know. Honestly, her little sister was horribly nosy.

  Cass took a deep breath.

  “I got bitten by a soul-sucker and the wound got infected. Jake…er, Counselor O’Shea, got the poison out and saved me.” At the memory of exactly how he had saved her, she felt her cheeks get so hot she was afraid her hair might catch on fire. She just hoped Rory didn’t notice and tease her about it.

  “A soul-sucker? Oh my God!” Rory shook her head in horrified amazement.

  And he was still able to heal you?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Cass shrugged uneasily. “I’m fine—you can see for yourself.”

  “Fine? You’re lucky to even be here. Where did it bite you?”

  “My hand.” Cass held up her unmarked hand, remembering how Jake had examined it. His touch had been so gentle and yet, so masterful…She cut the thought off abruptly.

  No. No way am I getting hot over that annoying elf.

  “It bit your hand?” Rory was looking closely at the unmarked palm. “And he didn’t have to amputate your arm to heal you?”

  “Amputate my arm? What the hell are you talking about?” Cass demanded.

  “That’s usually what happens when someone gets bitten by a soul-sucker,” Rory explained. “Whatever gets bitten usually has to be lopped off in order to keep the infection from spreading. It’s really serious—worse than being bitten by a brown recluse spider.”

  Cass frowned.

  “Jake did say something about if the infection spread I’d become evil forever.”

  “Not just evil—ugly.” Rory shivered. “It distorts your entire body and turns your eyes blood red. You look like a troll for the rest of your natural life. Ugh!”

  Cass felt a surge of shock and fear and relief all rolled into one at the realization of what a close call she’d had.

  “I had no idea it could be so serious. I mean, Jake was concerned but he kept a cool head and, uh, just dealt with it.”

  Though she had been upset about his methods of “dealing with” her bite earlier, now she began to rethink the situation. Certainly his treatment had been unorthodox—she’d never heard of any doctor recommending an intense orgasm to cure blood poisoning—but it had worked. He had kept her from being maimed or deformed for life.

  And I treated him like crap afterwards, she thought unhappily. She tried reminding herself that it didn’t matter because she didn’t even like the big elf, but that didn’t seem to be true anymore. She might still be aggravated with him but she could no longer quite loathe him as she had earlier. Which made things so much harder.

  Damn it! Why couldn’t I just keep hating him? Now I have to worry that I hurt his feelings. Not to mention wondering even more what he really thought of her. Well that question was easy enough to answer—she was his client. Nothing else. And it will probably be days before I see him again, she comforted herself. As long as I stay out of trouble.

  It was true that he was filing a new case for her but knowing what she did of the legal world—mostly bits and pieces she’d gleaned from conversations with Phil—it would take forever to file the new paperwork and get the ball rolling. So she wouldn’t have to worry about seeing her court-appointed elf again for a long, long time.

  “You’re really lucky you’re okay,” Rory said, breaking her train of thought.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Cass sighed and then gave her little sister a look. “Hey, how do you know so much about this kind of thing, anyway? I thought Phil was the one who was boning up on the whole fae world.”

  Rory shifted, looking uncomfortable.

  “I’ve been doing a little research, that’s all.”

  “Research into what exactly?” Cass demanded. “Your sudden interest in the Realm wouldn’t have anything to do with that big horse thing—that phooka, would it?”

  “What do you care if it did?” Rory demanded, sounding uncharacteristically defensive.

  Cass put a hand on her hip.

  “I care because Jake said that thing is dangerous. You need to stay away from it.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry about that and you tend to your own magical mess?” Rory snapped. “The way things are going I’m afraid your Brandon clone is going to get molested any minute. Apparently the ladies downstairs don’t often see such a, uh, well endowed Vulcan.”

  Cass was already up and out of bed.

  “Why do you keep talking about Vulcans? And how did he get out of the spare room, anyway? I thought we locked him in.”

  “We did but I felt sorry for him,” Rory said, leading the way out of the room. “I went to open the door just for a minute to give him some food and he pushed past me and ran downstairs. He, uh…had apparently taken off his jeans so he was nude when he ran away.”

  Her cheeks were bright red—despite being in college, she still spent most of her time working with animals and hadn’t had many human boyfriends.

  “Oh stop blushing,” Cass snapped. “You’ve seen the real Brandon naked already. You and Phil busted in on me the one and only time I got him to pose nude.”

  “Yes, but this is different,” Rory protested as they clattered downstairs. “He’s, uh, packing a much bigger gun than the real thing. Maybe it has to do with the way you painted him.”

 
; Cass sighed. It was true that in addition to beefing up her boyfriend’s muscles, she’d also made the bulge in his jeans a little bigger. Well, okay—a lot bigger. But that shouldn’t be a big deal. So she’d taken a little artistic license? So what?

  She and Rory came down into the large living room of the house on States Street into the middle of a party. But not just any party—some kind of costume party. Everyone seemed to be wearing weird outfits—some were dressed as aliens but others seemed to have on different colored uniforms.

  “What is this?” Cass asked, looking around in confusion. “It’s not even anywhere near Halloween yet. What’s going on?”

  “Apparently the new guy Nana found online is a Trekkie,” Rory explained.

  “Meaning what?” Cass demanded as an alien with bluish skin and white hair went past them.

  “Meaning that he got her to host a Star Trek convention as their first date, I guess.” Rory shrugged philosophically. “I guess it could be worse.”

  “I don’t see how,” Cass snapped. She was scanning the living room, looking for the clone but having no luck. “Where did you last see Brandon 2.0, anyway?” she asked.

  “Well, he was with one of the Romulan ladies. I think, anyway.” Rory frowned. “It’s kind of hard to tell them from the Vulcans, you know? Anyway, I think that’s where he got the ears. And probably the panties he was wearing on his head, too.”

  “What?” Cass rounded on her. “Are you telling me you let him loose and now he’s being molested by every single woman in the immediate vicinity?”

  “I never said that,” Rory said defensively. “I only saw him with one Romulan. For all we know, he’s still with her.”

  “Well we’d better go find them before he gets into anymore trouble.” Or anyone else’s panties, Cass added to herself. Both literally and figuratively.

  But before she and her little sister could start a comprehensive search of the house, their Nana showed up on the arm of an extremely swarthy man in a uniform with a strange looking growth on his forehead.

  “Oh, girls, hello,” she fluttered, smiling at them. She was wearing a skin-tight blue minidress and black knee-high boots and her hair was done up in a fashionable 60’s beehive. “Do you like my outfit?” she asked, smiling and doing a little twirl. “It’s from the original Trek. I’m supposed to be Nurse Chapel.”

  “It’s, uh, really nice, Nana,” Cass said tactfully. Despite her seventy-odd years, Nana’s fairy blood kept her looking young, although not quite young enough to pull off the outfit she was currently wearing.

  “Gee, Nana, I didn’t know you were into Star Trek,” Rory said, frowning.

  “Well, of course I am!” Nana huffed. “I love anything that happened in a galaxy far, far away.”

  “Uh, I think that’s Star Wars, Nana,” Cass said dryly.

  “Whatever.” Nana made a shooing motion with her hand. “Anyway, this is my date.”

  “I am Hrak.” The swarthy man made a stiff, formal bow from the waist. “’oH ‘oH Daq ghom Soh.”

  “Uh, what?” Cass frowned.

  “Do you need a glass of water?” Rory asked him helpfully. “It sounds like you have a frog in your throat.” She nodded at a passing tray of pale blue liquid. “Maybe you’d like some of that, uh, Romulan ale stuff they’re passing out?”

  “No, sillies!” Nana exclaimed. “That’s Klingon for ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’ Isn’t that right, Hrak?” she beamed at her swarthy date.

  “Very true.” He smiled back at her.

  “It’s really nice to meet you, uh, Hrak,” Cass said as diplomatically as she could. “But I’m actually looking for my boyfriend right now.” She thought it might be too complicated to explain that it was actually her boyfriend’s clone they were hunting.

  “Oh, Brandon?” Nana frowned. “Now don’t get upset, my darling, but I saw him awhile back with a Romulan lady and, well…” She bit her lip. “I’m not exactly sure he’s been quite, well, faithful to you tonight. If you know what I mean.”

  I haven’t been exactly faithful to him, either, Cass thought. With a sudden rush of guilt, she realized she hadn’t even considered Brandon when she was thinking about her encounter with Jake until now. She vaguely remembered trying to call him before she passed out on her bed and went to sleep but she hadn’t even considered admitting her infidelity.

  I couldn’t help it though, she argued to herself. I mean, Jake had to heal me—what was I supposed to do, refuse and become deformed or have my arm chopped off?

  “Don’t worry about that, Nana,” Rory said, interrupting Cass’s private guilt session. “That guy isn’t really Brandon—it’s his clone. So it doesn’t matter if he cheats.”

  “His clone?” Nana raised silvery eyebrows.

  “Rory—ixnay on the oneclay.” Cass nodded at Hrak and frowned at her little sister. Usually their Fairy Godmother’s magic hid itself from non-fae folk by making them want to change the subject or sounding like buzzing in their ears. But Nana’s Klingon warrior appeared to be listening intently to every word they said. Either he had some fairy blood—which Cass very much doubted—or the FG’s magic wasn’t even making an effort to conceal itself anymore.

  “I’ll say clone if I want—it’s a sci-fi convention, remember?” Rory snapped. “Clones are par for the course around here.”

  Nana shook her head. “Dear me, what have you girls been up to?”

  “It’s more like what the FG’s magic has been up to,” Cass growled, giving up on trying not to be heard by Nana’s date. “And don’t get me started.”

  “Oh, my dear—your birthday wish! I completely forgot.” Nana put a hand to her head. “I’m so sorry—how did it go?”

  “How do you think it went, Nana?” Rory asked. “We’re looking for a naked clone that crawled out of Cass’s latest painting.”

  “So…not good, then?” Nana frowned.

  “No. Not good at all.” Cass sighed. “But don’t worry—our court-appointed elf is on the case. He’s going to try and get things straightened out. In the mean time, though, we really need to find Brandon number two before things get out of hand.”

  “Too late.” Rory nudged her. “Look over there.”

  Cass whipped her head to one side just in time to see the Brandon clone dancing naked on their Nana’s antique oak dining room table. There was a hoard of costumed women around him, as well as one or two men, and most of them were waving dollar bills. As Rory had said, the clone was wearing nothing but a pair of pointed ears and some pink, lacy panties on his head. Several crumpled dollars stuck out from under the panties’ waistband making them look even more like a bizarre hat—apparently Brandon 2.0’s admirers were stuffing their money there since there was no place else to put it.

  “Oh, my Goddess!” Nana put a hand to her heaving bosom. “Cassandra, is it true this, uh, person actually came from one of your paintings?”

  “Yeah,” Cass mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up.

  “Then why are his lips purple? And is he really, um, drawn to scale?” Nana’s eyes were trained on the clone’s crotch.

  Cass couldn’t help looking as well and she had to acknowledge that her piece de resistance really was better endowed than the real Brandon. Much better. “Not exactly,” she said, through gritted teeth.

  “My God,” Rory muttered beside her. “He’s hung like a horse. Geeze, Cass, I’m beginning to get what you see in Brandon.”

  “That is not Brandon,” Cass ground out. “That is an out of control clone and if we don’t get him down from there, who knows what’s going to happen? What if the neighbors call the police about the noise and Brandon gets booked for public nudity? How will I ever explain that to him, huh?”

  “Well, come on then.” Rory blew a long strand of bright auburn hair out of her eyes. “Let’s go get him.”

  Cass nodded. “Let’s go.” She and Rory waded into the growing crowd, fighting for every inch since the women around the table weren’t eager to move. “Brando
n!” Cass shouted, elbowing an alien out of the way to get to the edge of the table. “Brandon, come down from there right now!”

  But the clone appeared to be having too much fun to comply. Someone had turned on some thumping bow-chicka-bow-wow type music and he was grinding to it with great enthusiasm.

  Cass gritted her teeth in irritation as she reflected that the Brandon clone had all of the real Brandon’s shortcomings as well as his looks. Her boyfriend loved to be the center of attention—especially if that attention was female. Why else would he head up a band called Satan’s Stud Muffins when he had almost no musical talent?

  He does it for the groupies—that’s the only reason he’s in a band in the first place, she thought in irritation and then tried to squash her disloyal thoughts. To her right, Rory was still trying to get the clone’s attention.

  “Brandon? Come down, sweetie—okay?” Rory reached for him but the clone seemed to misinterpret her move. Instead of hopping obediently off the table, he thrust forward, pushing his pulsing manhood almost into her face. Rory gave a gasp and jumped back just in time to avoid being slapped in the face by the clone’s man-meat.

  “Damn it!” Cass exclaimed. “You almost had him!”

  “Sorry, Cass.” Rory held up her hands. “I’ll help you as much as I can but there’s only so much I can do. I draw the line at being bitch-slapped by his business. I mean, he’s your boyfriend—er, the clone of your boyfriend, anyway. I just feel weird about touching him while he’s uh, naked and excited like that.”

  Cass had to admit that the Brandon clone, fully erect and grinding like the headline act for an all male revue, was kind of intimidating. Especially since the little artistic license she’d taken had grown into a problem of immense proportions. But if something wasn’t done soon, the scene would devolve into chaos. The clone’s groupies had obviously all consumed a little too much of the Romulan ale—they were shouting and rowdy and the noise level was climbing by the minute.

  We’re probably only minutes away from being busted by the cops and I really don’t want to explain to Brandon why he suddenly has a record for public nudity and who knows what else.